I’ve pulled onto the highway without any real direction or idea as to where I’m taking her. Just keep her talking. “Did I really hurt you that badly that you believe you deserve to take that kind of shit from anyone?”

I notice her tense and snap her gaze toward me. “Not everything is about you, Jacob.”

“No, you’re correct. But your first relationship sets a precedent for how you expect to be treated and the shit you’ll tolerate and the shit you won’t.”

Cars are zooming around us and I regret getting on the freeway when all I want to do is take in her expressions as we have this conversation. There was a time that I could read every one of her looks and I missed being so deeply in tune with her. I take the next exit just as she begins to speak. “You never cheated on me,” she says quietly. “To my knowledge, you never so much as looked at another woman. I was always the only woman you saw.”

“You still are.” The words leave my lips on their own accord.

“Yeah, okay.” She snorts and I frown at the thought that she doesn’t believe me.

“When have I ever lied to you?” I ask her.

“I’m just saying the thought that you haven’t looked at a woman in the past three years you’ve been gone is ridiculous.”

I pull into a parking lot of one of the lounges downtown. I didn’t want to go into one of the loud clubs, but I also wanted another drink and to keep her talking. “And if I haven’t?” Her eyes find mine and for a second, I feel like she’s going to press the issue. She’s going to ask if I dated someone since we’ve been apart, fucked someone, made love to someone, claimed someone the way I did her three years ago. I wonder if she can see the truth all over my face because her face snaps forward and she shakes her head. I get out of the car and this time I make it to her side of the car to open the door before she has a chance to stubbornly do it herself. I offer her my hand and she takes it on instinct before snatching it out of my hand the second she’s standing upright.

“Stop. You can’t…”

“Be a gentleman?” I finish for her because even women I wasn’t in love with would get the same treatment in terms of opening doors.

She licks her lips and my eyes drop to them tracing her full pout that’s coated with a layer of what looks like a tinted lip balm. It’s not bright or vibrant. It doesn’t look glossy, but just slick enough to keep my attention on her mouth. I find myself wondering if it’s flavored and what she’d taste like if I brushed my lips against them.

She begins walking toward the door and I follow behind her, my hands balled into fists as to not touch the small of her back to guide her. We are seated rather quickly given that it’s still on the earlier side of the night and it isn’t too crowded yet. We’re seated in a U-shaped booth with me seated in the center in hopes that she’d sit next to me. She sits on one of the sides and immediately orders a glass of water and a glass of Malbec. I order a Macallan 18 neat, my usual order before turning away from the overly flirtatious waitress. A look of satisfaction floods me when I see the look she’s still giving her long after she’s walked away.